


We Are the Lost

by Arvalee Knight (AvaWhiteRaven), AvaWhiteRaven



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sex, F/M, Mild Language, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-30 11:24:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5162096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaWhiteRaven/pseuds/Arvalee%20Knight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaWhiteRaven/pseuds/AvaWhiteRaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For most of your life you have trained, hunted, and killed. You've served different groups and different people but you've developed unbreakable and loyal ties to the Assassins. So, when William Miles calls for your aid you don't turn him down. You've killed and extorted for the Assassins before. But, you've never exactly been asked to keep someone alive until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vacation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheSenator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSenator/gifts).



> This was completely inspired by [TheSenator's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSenator) story on [Tumblr](http://senatusconsultum.tumblr.com/post/130339365785/from-eden)

You pulled the bike over onto the side of the road and reached into the inner pocket of your jacket. You didn't need to check the caller ID. You knew exactly who it was. He was the only person who'd have the gall to call you on your day off. And yes, it was your day off no matter what everyone else might try to tell you. You had worked nonstop with various teams throughout Europe and you needed a vacation. You were getting that vacation even if the entire continent was on fire.

"William," you nearly growled it into the phone.

His voice was low, softer than usual, "I need your help."

You nearly cringed. You rolled your eyes shut and leaned back in the seat. "I'm off duty, William. And you know it. I was very clear about this."

"I wouldn't have called you if it weren't important." He gave a long sigh but his next words were very determined and very bitter, "It's my son."

You leaned forward into the handlebars, your arms draped over them. "No." You had only heard about Desmond but you had heard enough. Rebellious teenager who ran away from home because the Order just wasn’t the thing for him. "I'm not chasing him down for you. He left on his own accord. That was his choice. I’m not some lost and found, William."

"No, you don't understand." He was suddenly desperate now, his voice reaching a different tone. "They already found him. Abstergo has him in Italy."

You sat a bit taller. Damn it. Italy was half way across the continent. There was no way you could get there quickly enough. And then on top of it, you'd have to coordinate a team together. You couldn’t simply break into Abstergo and steal one of their prisoners without a proper strike team. "What do you need from me? I'm on the other side of France."

There was a pause of silence as if he hadn't realized you were so far away. William had received your email a few nights ago, a very clear email that you were taking a week for yourself. You’d only just finished up your last mission in Czech so of course he couldn’t have known where you were. "We have a contact on the inside who is going to help us get him out."

You clenched your eyes shut. "Who is this contact?"

"Lucy Stillman."

“Lucy.” The name left a hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach. "I don't trust her. That whole mess with Clay..."

"She's going to help us get him out." William spoke it as if he were trying to convince himself of her allegiance. "There will be a team distracting most of their guards during the escape."

"William." You made sure your tone was level but serious. "What do you need of me?"

"He's my son. And you're my best." You heard the distinct change in his breathing, coated with worry and fear. "I need you there."

You were one of the best. You had more successful missions than any other in the Order. You’re specialty was going undercover and collecting information fast, killing the target, and getting out unnoticed.

He spoke his son’s name with a harsh tongue, “If Desmond is as stubborn as I remember… he’ll try to leave the moment the opportunity arises.”

"And you, what, need someone there to feed you info?” Annoyance flustered inside of you. You had better things to do, lives to save. “I'm not spying on your son it that’s--"

"No." William gave a low groan. "No, I need someone watching his back. I need someone making sure that when Abstergo tracks him down again--"

"Okay." Your hand reached up and squeezed the muscles in your neck. The ride through the French countryside had been long. And it was night and you hadn't yet slept. "I'll ride there but it's... going to take some time. When is this happening?"

"The very moment you reach the city." His voice wavered with both uncertainty and nerves. Others wouldn't have heard it. They would have only seen William's hard outer shell and his cold, calculating nature. But you'd known William for some time and you were trained to pick up on subtle clues.

You shifted in your seat, readied yourself for the arduous venture. You would need to stop for the night soon enough. No matter how dire Desmond's situation was you couldn't handle hours of more driving. "I'll inform you when I reach the border."

William hung up without any cordial good byes or good lucks.

You stuffed the phone back into your jacket.

You drove for two more hours stopping to rest at the closest hotel. You woke up early the next day and drove the rest of the way, reaching the city just before night fall. William sent you the coordinates to the warehouse, some industrial building that was long "abandoned". They had been expecting you, causing you little trouble when you asked for the details.

They led you to their maps and notes, their surveillance footage and the plethora of photos. You read through everything and organized all of it into piles, assigning the teams based upon their skills and knowledge. You had worked well into the night, sleeping only an hour before the sun rose.

You debriefed the group, explaining to them the errors in their plan's timing and the holes in their surveillance. You showed them which teams were going where, explaining in full detail as to why until they were nodding in agreement. You couldn't have someone doubting your expertise. Doubt would lead to hesitation and there could be no hesitation.

You were honest with team leaders. The mission was suicide. People would die. You were honest with the teams’ members. Their only goal was to be a distraction. None of them should be heroic. None of them should throw their life away. It wasn't your most glorious speech. You were too tired and bitter for that. They needed a realistic lecture, anyway. You were facing the entire corporation of Abstergo.

You headed a small sniper team positioned on a nearby building. They looked out over the main entrance, picking their targets for the beginning assault. They targeted only Abstergo's hired grunts and avoided the civilians as best as possible. The few contacts on the inside were warned ahead of time, standing on the tips of their toes for the upcoming assault.

You set yourself up at the corner of the building, watching the parking garage across the street. You walked each team through the plan again and readied your replacement for when you would have to leave to retrieve Desmond.

It happened fast, each second speeding up as the attack began. The snipers picked off their targets, initiating the full on onslaught. You reminded them not to be heroes. They were no use to the Order if they were dead and heroes always ended up dead.

You could only guess what Lucy was doing. You only hoped she was as reliable as she made herself seem. Lucy had been given information for a rendezvous point but what she did passed exiting the building was up to her. You had no control over that factor and it bothered you not being on the inside.

You clapped a hand against the team's leader and left the area. You joined your bike and sped down the various streets until you found yourself at the location. You waited, counting the seconds and then the minutes, furiously pacing around your bike. Anything could have gone wrong in your absence. Lucy could have flaked, deciding things were too heated for an evac. The teams could have been decimated, the police arriving and surrounding until their was no escape.

A four door pulled up to the curb and parked just in front of your bike. Lucy stepped out and slammed the door shut. She was covered in blood and her nerves were still rattled. She pumped her fists in a desperate attempt to shake away the adrenaline.

You clenched your jaw. "Where is Desmond?"

She threw a hand towards the back end of the car. "He's in the trunk."

"What?" Your brows pinched as you marched forward. "You stuffed him in the trunk, Lucy? What the hell? Open it." He was your target, the one person you were supposed to keep safe and he was locked in the back of a trunk.

She hadn't expected your anger, taken aback for a moment. "I don't want him to know where we're going."

"You think he's a traitor?" You huffed, gasping at her audacity.

"No. That's not it." Lucy shifted her weight, just as stubborn as you were. "The less he knows the better."

You didn't budge from your spot. Your body was rigid with annoyance and exhaustion. "Open it. We don't have time for this. He's not a prisoner."

She spun on her heel and unlocked the trunk, throwing it open. "He's fine. See?"

Desmond was curled up, shielding his eyes from the flash of intense light. "There already, huh? Can’t say it was all that fun."

"Desmond Miles?" You stepped forward. "I've been assigned at getting you to safety. If you'll come with me."

"Are you serious?" Lucy folded her arms, digging her fingers into the muscle.

"You put him in the trunk of your vehicle." You stared her down, daring her to argue again. "I’m taking him from here."

Desmond sat up, tossing his attention between the two of you. He slowly jostled his way out of the trunk, shoes smacking the asphalt. He rubbed a hand over his short hair and along his neck. "Listen. I don't want any more trouble--"

"Get on the bike, Desmond." You tossed a thumb over your shoulder and focused on Lucy. "We will meet you there. The others have already arrived."

She reached up and slammed the trunk closed. She plodded back to the driver's door and disappeared inside.

Desmond was already running his hands across the bike, looking it over as if he knew what he was looking at. "This is a pretty sweet ride."

You waited for Lucy to drive off before snapping up the helmet. "Get this on."

Desmond took it, spun it between his hands. "I'll drive."

You gave a bitter laugh. "I don't think so."

"C'mon. I had one of these babies... You know, until Abstergo came along." He flashed you a childlike grin, an eager child with a birthday present. “Besides, you look tired as shit. Worse than me, I bet. And I’ve been sleeping with an old man watching me.”

Your brows pinched. “Do I even want to ask?”

“Nah,” Desmond laughed. He tossed you the helmet and slid onto the front of the bike. “You know you wanna let me drive.”

You were tired. Beyond tired, really. And letting Desmond drive for a bit couldn’t hurt too much. Even if Abstergo was still looking for him he’d have a helmet on. “Fine.” You pulled the keys from your jacket and slapped them into his open palm. “The place isn’t far. I’ll tell you when to turn.”

“Nice.” He tossed the keys a few times then stuck them into the ignition.

“Helmet,” you ordered, pushing it into his chest. “I don’t want them chasing us down.

He took the helmet without further complaint and slipped it on, his smile hidden behind the sleek black headgear.

You straddled the back half of the bike, your hands falling onto his waist as the engine revved to life. He started the bike down the street, a bit unsettled at first, but then it was like he’d driven one every day of his life. You leaned forward and hid your face behind his broad shoulder, using him as a shield against the wind.

You pointed to the streetlights up ahead. “Take a left here.” Your arms loosely slid around him, keeping yourself well in balanced as he made the sharp turn and sped up. You pressed your cheek against his back, knowing it’d be some time before having to turn again. You closed your eyes for just a moment but you must have fallen asleep. The bike came to a slow crawl, your hold around him jostling.

You lifted up your head, groggy as you sat a bit straighter. “Why are we stopping?”

Desmond pulled the helmet off and looked over his shoulder at you. “I thought this place wasn’t far. I drive any longer and we’ll be on our way to the beach.”

You groaned and pressed your head into your hand. “Damn it.”

Desmond couldn’t help grinning a bit wider. “Told you you were looking tired.”

“We’ll have to turn back.” You rubbed your eyes, feeling them sting from exhaustion.

He gave a light chuckle and got off of the bike.

Your brows dove down, a sudden spark of annoyance. “Where are you going?”

“You’re not driving and you’re too tired to tell me where to go.” He held the helmet underneath his arm and turned away. “So, I’m taking a walk and you’re coming with me.”

You stood up sharply onto your feet, jaggedly getting off the bike. “Abstergo is trying to kill you. We don’t have time for a stroll through the park.”

“I haven’t stepped outside in days.” Desmond glanced over at you. “You think I could get a little fresh air before you lock me back up? That’s your plan, isn’t it?”

You sucked down a breath, readying yourself to argue the dangers, but you swallowed those words. A walk would wake you up and ready your senses for the upcoming tasks, whatever they might be. William hadn’t quite filled you in yet. You released your breath slowly and gave a slight nod. You followed after him, vigilant to every person that walked by. “I don’t plan on locking you away.” You stepped closer to him as a group of people neared.

“Then what is your plan? Or does someone else determine where I go?” Desmond pulled his hood up and slipped a hand into his jacket pocket.

“My job is to keep you safe. From Abstergo. From traitors…” You flicked your attention to him, analyzing what emotions you could. He looked tired and a bit scared but otherwise he seemed rather calm.

He gave a soft, halfhearted chuckle. “First time I’ve been to Italy and I haven’t even seen the sights.”

You snorted at his remark then hated yourself for having done so. This wasn’t a time for joking. Desmond’s life was on the line. “You can see the sights when you’re off Abstergo’s radar.”

He slowed to a stop and faced you, the hood keeping some of his expression hidden, but you knew he wasn’t all that happy. “I’ll never be off their radar. I left that life behind me and they dragged me back in. I didn’t want anything to do with either of the Orders.”

You shifted between your feet then shuffled backwards towards the bike. “Then make sure you give Abstergo hell for it.” You ambled down the sidewalk but you made sure he was following before getting too far. You didn’t want to leave your only mission out on his own for others to grab. That’d be a terrible phone call to make to William. “Ah, yeah, I saved him alright. Then I ditched him because I’m not the endearing type.”

Desmond had the helmet on before you could even open your mouth. He straddled the bike and waited for you to join him before starting off down the street. You made sure you sat up, letting the sharp winds keep you awake. You pointed out where to turn until finally pulling up to the small abandoned warehouse.

You stood up, stretching out your back when he handed over the helmet. “Desmond.” You watched him freeze at the sound of his own name, waiting for some sort of harsh comment. You spun the helmet between your hands, watching the light bounce off of its sleek surface. “I’ve never seen the sights myself… Perhaps, if there’s a chance…”

That same childish grin started to appear. “Yeah.” He gave a nod and scuffed his shoes across the concrete. “I doubt they’ll let me run off after what happened last time.”

You huffed. “Do you know who I am?” You raised a wry brow at him. “They can try and stop me. And fail.” You swaggered towards the entrance to the building without missing a beat.

You were supposed to be on vacation, anyway.


	2. Cozy

You made sure to lead the way up the ramp, ever the ready for anything that might occur on arrival. You couldn’t know for certain if the warehouse was still safe. Any number of things could have happened. Abstergo could have followed Lucy or worse… she could have defected and gave them the location. You always assumed people were traitors. You, yourself, were a traitor. To the Templars anyway.

You stopped at the end of the ramp and looked over your shoulder at Desmond. He was following at his own pace, deliberately slow, making sure each step was precise. You released a slow breath, steadying your tone so it didn’t sound so harsh. “What is it?”

His attention shot up, brows rising. “What? What’s what?”

You pressed your lips thin. “I understand you’re not exactly thrilled…”

“Thrilled?” He licked his lips and tossed his head to peer out over the bottom floor cluttered with boxes and stacked with crates. “Just a few months ago and I thought all this crap was just some bullshit theory my parents conjured up.” He tossed his gaze about and spat the word disbelievingly, “Templars.”

You ducked your head away. If only you had such a liberating thought as a child. “You’ve lived better than most. You enjoyed… what, nine years of freedom?”

He shook his head a bit, stepping past you. “So what exactly is it you guys want from me?”

“Me? I just want to keep you alive. Them?” You nudged your chin towards the room down the hall. “They’ll want to make you an assassin. They’ll want you to help end the war.” You released a shuddered sigh, an illness washing over you. God, when was the last time you slept? When was the last time you took a true breath of air that wasn’t thickened by apprehension. “Abstergo is winning, Desmond. It is a painful truth.”

Desmond turned to argue, to say something but his words died before they reached his lips. He reached out and pressed his hands into your arms. “You don’t look too hot.”

You allowed yourself to laugh a little, to smile. “Talk about hurting a girl’s feelings.”

His voice softened, caring and sweet, “Hey, I mean it. Are you okay?”

You gave him a quick nod. You forced yourself walk down the rest of the hall, to press firmly the mask across your expression. Your boots banged against the floor, catching the attention of the small group. Rebecca and Shaun had been huddled around Lucy, speaking of old times with laughs and playful shoves.

“Oh, shit!” Rebecca gave a bit of an excited squeal and jumped at you, her arms thrown around your neck. Your body stiffened in her hold but you forced yourself into a calm. “You’re here! I can’t believe it.” She released you from the hug but her hands shook your shoulders. "Couldn't hardly believe we were getting to work together again."

“Fantastic.” Shaun gave a grumble. “Someone hide the food.”

You tossed him a bitter glower. “Don’t waste your energy, Hastings. I’ll just find it anyway.”

He snorted but gave your arm a tender squeeze. “Glad to see you didn’t die on your way here. We were beginning to wonder… Lucy said you left not long after her.”

You grinned, feigning confidence. You shimmied out of your jacket and tossed it onto the closest chair, glad to finally be rid of the extra layer. What you would have given to take a long hot bath. Or even just curl up on a couch and sleep. “We took our time. Didn’t want Abstergo to find this place.” You held your breath, hoping Desmond didn’t call you out on your lie.

Rebecca switched gears, turning her energy towards the new member. “You must be Desmond!”

“Ah, yes.” Shaun threw his hands up. “The infamous subject seventeen.”

Desmond looked a bit overwhelmed, tossing his attention between the unfamiliar faces. “And who are you?”

“Where are my manners?” Shaun was actually being well behaved from what you remembered of him. He tended to speak rather snarkily but today he seemed in a better, softer mood. “I’m Shaun Hastings and this is Rebecca Crane.”

Rebecca snapped up his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Shaun piped in quickly, a sassier edge on his tongue, “Right. It’s been lovely chatting but if you don’t mind, Desmond, it's best if we set straight to work.”

You lifted a hand. “Work? I don’t think so.”

He raised a challenging brow at you. “Time’s precious. Doubly so these days.”

“Time is not as important as lives.” You narrowed your eyes, daring him to keep it up. “Desmond didn’t escape Abstergo for you to throw him back into the fire. He needs sleep and time to recover.”

Lucy folded her arms across her chest and gave a few nods. “Too much time in the Animus can have negative side effects. She’s right. We should take a break for now.”

“Speaking of breaks.” Rebecca clapped a hand against your shoulder. “You look like you need one.”

“Yes, I know.” You stepped past her towards the monitors. “After I check your security. I can’t have Abstergo sneaking their way in because of a few blind spots.”

“It can wait. Abstergo won’t be anywhere near this place.” Rebecca grabbed your elbow firmly and you resisted the urge to fight her. It was in your nature to fight against obstacles but you wanted her to be more than just someone standing in your way. You wanted to consider Rebecca a person, a friend. What you wanted more was to be a person and not a weapon.

You gave a slow nod. “You're right. It’ll wait.”

“I’ll show you guys to your rooms.” Rebecca bounded off towards a set of double doors, waiting for you to follow like an eager puppy. “They’re not much but it beats sleeping outside.”

You grinned widely, remembering the last mission with Shaun and her. It had been the dead of winter, the vehicle trapped in a snowstorm and the heater running on low fumes. You’d left them alone to find help, fighting your way to the closest town and nearly died doing so. But you had saved them, kept them from dying alone out there.

Desmond gave a groan. “Anywhere that isn’t Abstergo is fine by me.”

“Can’t imagine those creeps being near my bed.” Rebecca shivered for effect, confidently strolling down the hall and pointed out the rooms. “Shaun called ‘shotgun’ on that room. Says it has the best access to the heating and cooling.” She shrugged her shoulders halfheartedly. “Alright. Here we are.”

You motioned a hand towards the door, allowing Desmond first pick.

But Desmond’s eyes were on you, his brows bending upwards with concern. “You sure you’re alright? I mean… you’re looking a bit pale.”

You pressed a hand against your forehead, brushing back the strands of your hair. “I’m fine. It’s just been a while since I’ve slept.” Slept and eaten, you reluctantly remembered.

Desmond gave a disapproving hum.

“She always does this.” Rebecca shook her head and you shot her an angry glare. “What? You’re not superhuman. You have to take care of yourself like the rest of us.”

“I will.” You threw a hand at the bedroom door. “I am. Right now.”

Rebecca raised her palms in meager surrender. “I’ll order food. I’m craving some serious Chinese.” She swaggered down the hall towards the main room, shouting something at Shaun that you hadn’t quite picked up on.

Desmond’s hand fell onto your shoulder. “Seriously--”

“Seriously, Des. I’m fine.” You nearly growled it, your words harsh and unpracticed. You took down a breath and put effort into softening your tone. “I’m okay. Go. Sleep.”

He laughed wholeheartedly as if your words had been the most humorous thing he heard in months. He tossed his attention down the hall before pushing open his bedroom door. “C’mon. I don’t believe you.”

You stood a bit taller. “Excuse me?”

Desmond towered over you, a poor attempt to look stronger than you. “I don’t believe you’ll sleep. I think you’ll run off the moment no one’s looking.”

“Me?” You huffed, hardly believing his audacity. “You’re the one with a habit for running.”

“Ah.” He pointed a playful but accusing finger into your shoulder and pushed. “I knew it. You’re not going to sleep because you think I’ll escape.”

You gasped. That hadn’t been it at all but… he did make a fair point. “I’m not sleeping because this place is a death trap. We need better security.”

“So, you weren’t planning on sleeping after all?” He smirked as if he had somehow led you into a trap.

You pressed your shoulder into the wall and slipped your eyes closed. God, you were tired and arguing with him was draining. You were so tired he had manipulated you into telling him the truth.

“C’mon.” He pressed a hand against the center of your back and threw a hand into the room. “Let’s go. We can keep an eye on each other.”

You shuffled into the dim room, the light of day spilling in from the small windows on the upper half of the wall. “Don’t even think about touching me.”

Desmond snorted. “I’ll try to remember that while I’m sleeping.” He half-fell half-rolled onto the open sleeping bag. He groaned as his back eased into the floor, his eyes locked on the ceiling. “Damn this has been a day.”

You sat down awkwardly near him, watching him from the corner of your eye. He looked worse for wear, stress taking its toll. “I know what it's like. Not wanting to be a part of this war.” You swallowed the knot in your throat. You laid down stiffly onto the other half of the bedroll and slid your eyes shut. “But, like it or not, we’re here.”

His words were hesitant, voice dropping into a whisper as if he were too afraid to ask, “Did you grow up an Assassin, too?”

You released a heavy sigh. “Sleep. We’ll talk about it later.”

“I’m holding you to that.” He shuffled next to you, arm thrown up above his head. “Goodnight.”

This time you were the one to whisper, your voice barely audible, “Night.”

~:~

Something had snatched you out of a dream. Instincts took over, years of training and survival. There was something wrong and you didn’t have time to figure out what it was. You sat up sharply. You had your gun out of its holster and aimed at the intruder before your eyes even opened.

“Whoa, whoa.” Rebecca was leaning back, hands thrown into the air. “Just me.”

You shuddered, adrenaline pouring out of your veins, leaving you clammy and chilled, sweat beginning to layer your skin. There had been a good reason behind telling Desmond not to touch you during the night. If he had startled you, it could have ended badly.

Rebecca shifted her vision between you and the gun. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t have tried to wake you up…” She relaxed as the gun was lowered. “But your phone’s been going off like crazy…” She tossed a thumb over her shoulder towards the door.

Your eyes finally fell down to Desmond curled up against you, an arm draped lazily in your lap. It must have been over your waist before you sat up. You clenched every muscle to keep back the next shiver. You could have killed him during the night. Your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears, “You said my phone was ringing?”

Rebecca’s attention was on Desmond as well before slowly nodding, “Yeah. Shaun wouldn’t shut up about it so… here I am, risking life and limb. Should’ve made his sorry ass come in here.”

You took hold of Desmond’s hand and moved it carefully off of your lap, taking in the coldness of his fingers. You stood up and rolled the rest of the sleeping bag over his body in a poor attempt to keep him warm. You shuffled out of the room with Rebecca at your side, a barely hushed laugh in her throat.

You shot her a fierce glare. “What?”

She threw her hands up and hurried her pace. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking something,” you retorted while quickening your pace as well. “Becca?”

She spun on her heel, a sheepish grin pressed across her lips. “You were looking pretty peaceful before I walked in. That’s all.”

You raised a brow. “I was asleep.”

“Just saying you were looking…” Her shoulders rose up as she looked about for the right word. “Pretty damn cozy back there. In his arms.”

You clenched your eyes shut. “Are you hinting--”

“Yes!” She nearly shouted it, unable to contain her excitement.

“Des and I--”

“Des?” She nearly squealed. “Knew it. You’re so going to tap that.”

“What? Becca!” You threw your hands into your hair.

“Don’t deny.” She cautiously shoved a hand into your arm.

“I’ve a phone to get to.” You plodded down the hallway towards the common area, snapping up your jacket and rummaging in the pocket for your cell.

How could Rebecca think that? No. No, Desmond was the mission. He was the only reason you were there. To keep him safe. Nothing more. Nothing. That was it. So why was finding your damn phone becoming all the more increasingly frustrating? Damn it, your pockets weren’t that huge.

“Looking for this little nightmare?” Shaun lifted the cell up into the air.

You dropped the jacket back onto the chair and sauntered over. “I apologize for having disturbed your…” You smiled sweetly as you snagged the phone from his grasp. “What is it you do again? Librarian?”

Shaun’s bitterness arose as he peered over his glasses. “Oh, ha ha. Yeah, well, it's good to see that your maturity level hasn’t altered over the years.”

You would have retorted with a snarkier comment but you noticed all of the phone calls were from William. You stalked off towards the hallway and made the call, pacing a few steps before he picked up. “William?”

“My son.” As usual, William’s voice was very formal and precise. He didn’t sound too worried, as if his faith in you was greater. “Is he well?”

“Sleeping as we speak.” You looked at the double doors that led to the bedrooms, remembering that Desmond had in fact been curled up against you. And you hadn’t attacked him. But then again, you had been incredibly exhausted last night. You were going to make a mental note not to do that again.

He released a slow breath. “Good. See that he remains safe.”

“You could have called any one of them for this information…” You crossed your arm across your chest, stalking the small space like a caged tiger.

“I don’t fully trust...” His voice wavered a bit. He didn’t trust Lucy, either. Perhaps he didn’t fully trust anyone but you. “Remain vigilant. Abstergo won’t give him up so easily.”

“Neither will I.” You raised your head a bit higher. “They won’t see nor hear of him again if I can help it.”

“I want updates.” William’s voice seemed final, resolute, before he hung up.

You clutched the phone, pressing the edge of it against your mouth. You leisurely sauntered into the common area and tossed your phone down with your jacket. “Are there any updates for me?” You looked from Shaun hunched over at his computer to Lucy towards the back of the room then rested on Rebecca as she fiddled with the Animus.

Lucy’s boots clamored on the floor as she stepped towards a group of monitors. “I set up the security system while you slept. I double checked for any blind spots but I know you’re going to want to take a look.” She motioned you over towards them and explained in detail about where each camera was posted. She even pulled out blueprints of the building to make sure you had a better visual of the set up before leaving you to your task.

You were going to have to hack into the cameras in surrounding buildings. You wanted a larger perimeter of sight. Abstergo was clever and if they caught wind of your location… You wanted to know about it before they were on top of you.

“Des,” beamed Rebecca, the underlying hint of something in her tone. “Finally awake I see. You must have been sleeping pretty cozy back there.”

Des. You nearly groaned. Why had you called him that?

Desmond gave a low groan, a sound that caught your full attention. You watched him stretch his arms above his head, his chest puffing, before pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes. “Did I miss anything?”

Rebecca threw you a grin and raised her brows a few times to show she was well aware of your staring. “Just all the food.”

You hadn’t realized you were nibbling on your lip until then. You forced your attention back to the monitors, trying to focus on every little detail but that groan Des had made… You narrowed your eyes in hopes it would make things easier to focus on.

Desmond chuckled. “You guys ate it all?”

“Still in the kitchen.” She started working back on the Animus, keys being typed in rapid succession. “We saved some for both of you. Knew you’d be starving when you guys got up.”

Your stomach clenched as if it heard about the prospect of food.

Shaun snorted. “If our astute bodyguard doesn’t get to it first. She eats for ten people, that one. And good luck hiding anything you don’t want her to get into. Always manages to find it somehow. Blood hound."

You tossed him a thin pressed scowl. “You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” Shaun raised a wry brow. “Frightened is the more the like.”

Des gave a breathy laugh, a shake of his head, and stalked off towards the kitchen. “I guess I better grab my share and then some.”

You had the urge to chase after him but you really wanted to double check the security of the building. There looked like there was a basement that needed to be cleared out and examined… But, really, you were quite hungry. And you hadn’t eaten since William called you to Italy.

Rebecca looked over her shoulder at you, as if she could hear your internal struggle. “Des looks like he can eat quite a bit…”

Shaun grumbled into his computer screen. “Des? When did we start calling him ‘Des’? Some sort of pet name for him, Becca? No, we can’t keep him, just so you know.”

“I’m not the one that wants to keep him,” jeered Becca all too sweetly.

You hightailed it out of the room while they were focused on each other. You really were starving and you were more than glad to avoid Becca’s teasing. You just needed to grab some food before heading down into the lower levels for a surveillance check. You were not going in there to talk to Desmond or to even glance at him. Food, you clarified, hoping your brain took the hint.

Desmond had a carton of something in his hand, a fork scooping around its contents. He looked up from it, eyes sparking a bit at the sight of you. “Hey, want me to grab you a plate?”

You couldn’t help but smile a little at him, your resilience fading. “I think I’ll manage.” You looked over the cluster of take-out boxes, peering into each one for the options.

“This one’s pretty good.” He took a bite off of his fork. He gave a slight moan but it was enough to send your stomach flopping. “Some kind of chicken.”

You drew in your lip, scraping your teeth across it. Focus, you ordered your brain. You’re a trained killer, you can handle a few moans and groans. Your brows creased together. You were somewhat annoyed with yourself. Yes, Desmond was attractive but… Your mission was more important. Surely you could contain yourself around him.

“Hey...” Desmond’s voice softened as his hand smoothed circles into your back. “You okay?” He must have seen your expression or noticed your change in body language because he looked a bit confused.

You stepped away from him, trying to put physical distance between the two of you. “Just trying to decide what I want to eat first.” You cleared your throat, tossing your attention to his hovering hand. “Listen, Des, you’re going to have to quit touching me.”

He somewhat gasped and choked. “I’m sorry?”

You cleared your throat. “What I mean is that…” You snatched up the closest carton and popped it open. Noodles. Noodles were good. You could just take those and run for now. “I’m not comfortable with people touching me. It’s hard to explain.”

Desmond leaned back into the counter using his fork to push food around again. “You said we’d talk about what you meant last night. You grew up an Assassin, is that it?”

“I wish.” Your smile felt forced, felt agonized. You mirrored him, spine digging back against the hard edge of the counter-top. “No, my parents were loyal and devout Templars. Found out I had a knack for… seeing and hearing things, picking up on clues and what not.” You threw a glance at Desmond as the realization slowly hit him.

“Eagle Vision?” He looked at you with narrowed eyes. “Is that… possible?” He chewed on his next bite before muttering, “I think… I might have used it while we were escaping Abstergo.”

“Some people have an aptitude for it.” You gave a heavy sigh before taking down a much needed breath. “And apparently it is very much sought after. I was shipped off to Abstergo to be trained and honed as a weapon. My parents didn’t mind. In fact… I don’t think I ever saw them after that. Just my masters and mentors.”

Desmond set down his carton and turned to face you. “How old were you?”

“Eleven.” You stared into the noodles, choosing it over Desmond’s sympathy. “Made my first kill when I was a budding teenager. Endured Animus sessions in order to speed up my training.” You cleared your throat in hopes to end the discussion. “My point is that touching isn’t in my dictionary. It’s not programmed and…”

“Programmed?” Des leaned forward, tilted his head a bit and held his gaze with yours. His lips pulled into a soft smile, endearing and captivating. “You’re not a machine. No matter what they did, you can change for the better.” He gave a wink before picking up his carton. “I promise, though, I’ll try to keep my hands off of you.”

You gave a soft laugh and turned your head away, hoping he didn’t glimpse the heat that bloomed across your neck and face.

“Have to say, I’m gonna miss poking you.” He shoved a finger into your shoulder which snapped hold of your attention. He grinned, pulling the corner of his lip against his canine when he caught sight of your blush.

You nervously cleared your throat, shaking the carton in hand to draw his attention. “I’m taking this with me. I should go and get some work done, make sure the building’s secure and…”

“I could help.” He stepped forward while you shuffled a few steps backwards to the kitchen door. “Apparently, I’m training to become an Assassin.”

You couldn’t stop the wide toothy smile, the skipping of your heart, the increase in your breathing. “I think I can handle a simple walk around the building.”

Desmond smiled just as widely, his eyes leaping between your eyes and mouth. “You sure? It might be a good training exercise.” Something in the way he spoke told you he wasn’t hinting at training.

You huffed and refocused. “You’ve an Animus session to get to. I’d savor that meal. Becca has it her way and you’ll never see reality again.”

Desmond cautiously reached out and with his forefingers grabbed the hem of your shirt. He tugged on it a bit, staring at it as if he were unable to make eye contact. He hesitated as he spoke. His smile was still there but there was an underlying fear beneath it all. Your training told you he was somewhat worried. “You wouldn’t let her, right? You’d make sure I woke up.”

You gave him a firm a nod. “Of course. Des, of course.”

“Good.” Des lifted his carton in hand and gave a wink. He walked by and teasingly whispered, “I knew you’d miss me.”

You determinedly pressed your grin away. You shoved his shoulder hard as he walked away, swallowing down the bubbly laughter. “Go. You’ve wasted enough time.”

Des threw one last smile over his shoulder as he left the kitchen.

You inhaled a steadying breath but your heart refused to calm. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t let Desmond inebriate your judgement. You needed to be able to accomplish your mission without your emotions overwhelming you. And it wasn’t like you could simply avoid him. He was your target, your sole goal, your only task.


	3. Wagers

You ate mindlessly on the noodles as you surveyed the basement area. All of it was fairly secure and you’d bet your next meal that Abstergo wouldn’t be able to use it to sneak in. And you rarely gave up food willingly, especially good food.

You had taken your time down there in hopes to avoid Rebecca’s quirky delight and Shaun’s snarky retorts because certainly he knew why Becca was acting so strange. But you especially wanted to avoid Desmond’s subtle flirting and just his attractiveness in general.

By the time you returned the common area, Desmond was unconscious in the animus. Rebecca and Lucy were the only ones around, fervently typing away when you stepped into the space. You tossed your empty noodle carton onto the closest desk.

“There you are.” Rebecca sat back in her seat and grinned. “I was just about to wake up, Desmond. And, speaking of ‘Des’…” She wiggled her brows at you. “I heard some giggles in the kitchen, earlier. Did you two finally, you know…” She made some mildly obscene gestures with her hands.

You sucked down a breath. “Becs!”

“What? I know the sound of a flirty giggle when I hear it.”

“In the kitchen?” You rolled your eyes shut. “Why would we do that in the kitchen?”

“What’s going on?” Lucy was staring wide eyed over her monitor screen. “Rebecca…”

She raised open palms in mock surrender. “Just calling it how I see it.”

“What even have you seen?” You pressed your hand against your eyes, rubbing out their soreness. “No, nevermind. Don't answer that.”

“I saw them both curled up together,” Rebecca shouted across the room to Lucy, altogether pretending you weren’t standing there. “On the floor sleeping. Together.”

Lucy somewhat smirked. “I don’t think that really means their actually having sex, Rebecca.”

She raised a snarky brow. “It took me over a year just to convince her to let me hug her. Cuddling on the floor? Now that’s a whole new level.”

“I was asleep,” you mildly excused.

“Hey, Lucy.” Rebecca spun in her chair. “Want to make some quick cash?”

“Depends.” Her face distorted with a slight bit of uncertainty. “Is it legal?”

“I'm going to start a betting pool.” She chuckled and spun back around to face you. “I give it by the end of the week. You won’t be able to resist banging him by then.”

“That quickly?” You barked a laugh. “Seriously? No. There's no way.”

She grinned all too haughtily. “So you admit that it might happen eventually?”

Your mouth fell wide. “N-no… That’s not what I meant at all. I just meant that… it would be unreasonable to think something like that could occur so quickly...” You groaned at your needless rambling. They weren’t going to listen either way.

“Month,” added Lucy, a smirk on her lips. She shrugged her shoulder when you threw a glower at her, not at all ashamed. “What? I've seen the way you two look at each other.”

Your brows furrowed as you walked off to your desk. “I'm going to go and get some work done.”

Rebecca tapped a few keys on the animus, her attention returning to its screen. “Just admit it.”

“Admit what,” Shaun nearly growled as he sauntered into the room with a mug in his hand. “You all look like cats that swallowed canaries.”

“Becca,” you chastised before dropping down into the chair at your desk. “No.”

She all too sweetly and a little too casually stated, “Our illustrious veteran is going to jump Desmond’s bones. I betted a week and Lucy says a month.”

Shaun all but choked on his next sip of tea. “Wait? What?”

You groaned and pressed your forehead into one of the many screens, staring into the grains of pixels.

“You've girls nothing better to do?” Shaun set his mug down. “You should be finishing things up so we can all call it a night, not wasting your time chatting about who’s shagging who.” He cleared his throat then tossed Becca a glance, “Two weeks. She's looking a tad frustrated lately. Might even do her some good.”

“Shaun!” You slammed your hands into the desk. He'd been your last hope for a voice of reason.

Lucy somewhat giggled into her hand. She shook her head and stood up. “We really should be working. Des’s sex life aside, I've been looking over his vitals and the effects of the animus. Things are looking good. We can keep him in a while longer next time.”

“Not too long.” You tossed her a glance. “We don’t want to lose him to the bleeding effect…” Your gaze lowered to the floor, dragging itself back to the screen. You’d read the data about Clay… Or rather, what data the Assassins had managed to scavenge on him during his time under Abstergo’s hold.

Lucy’s voice seemed to waver, “He hasn’t shown any signs but… You’re right. We’ll keep an eye on that.”

“So far so good, then.” Rebecca smashed a few more keys. “I haven’t had any hiccups with baby either. Well, a few language glitches but that’s about it.”

Des gave a slight groan, his hand nursing against his skull. “Did somebody mention my sex life?”

Rebecca all but snorted. “You stay in the Animus too long, Des?” She grinned widely over at Shaun, their silent little stares a conversation all their own. She finally turned back to Desmond. “You should go get some more water and food. Can’t have you wasting away on us.”

“Someone should do a supply run tomorrow,” grumbled Shaun. “We’ve really nothing to eat in there.”

You forced yourself to focus on your computer and ignore whatever conversations were happening. You could only hope the topic from earlier was completely forgotten. You pulled up some of the files that had been sent to you by the order. You’d requested video footage from the last mission, hoping to see if there were improvements that could be made. You’d unwittingly managed to get yourself cornered at one point and had to fight your way out.

You replayed that footage, scrutinizing the events as well as your fighting style. You searched for weaknesses, bitter about the few times they were able to make it past your defences. More bitter about the guard that nearly shot you. You were lucky, able to use another guard as a shield. Very lucky.

“Who’s that?” Desmond unknowingly caused you to jump, sparking another bit of annoyance in you. Had you not been so wrapped up in the footage you would have heard him approach. “Looks like some Abstergo employees getting their asses kicked.”

You closed out the video as quickly as you could. “Just reviewing some old footage that was lying around in the system.”

Des grinned before sitting back against the edge of the desk. “You planning on staying up all night watching old footage or do you actually plan to sleep?”

You looked about the common area. Everyone else must have made their way to bed, their stations all but completely shut down for the night. You narrowed your eyes at him. “And what are you still doing up?”

He lifted a nonchalant shoulder. “Couldn’t sleep.”

You pushed your chair away from the desk and stood. “You’re going to need it. Especially if Rebecca plans on keeping you in the Animus longer than before.”

He eyed the bright red chair across the room then swept his attention back to you. “This place isn’t exactly… a bed and breakfast. And I’m not exactly having the time of my life here.” He tilted his head and admired your hard pressed frown. “All things considered, it makes sleeping a little difficult.”

You glared, making sure he felt every ounce of seriousness. “Bed, Desmond. Now.”

He grinned, of course, teeth nipping on the corner of his lips. “If you wanted me in bed so badly all you had to do was ask.”

You huffed and sashayed past him. “Good night, Des.”

“You’re just leaving me alone?” He quickened his pace until he was strolling along beside you down the hallway. “You’re not worried I’m going to run off in the middle of the night? Disappear like I did before?”

“You’re going to try and run on foot?” You slowed your steps then stopped in front of your bedroom door. “Lucy has the keys to the car and Shaun probably has the keys to the van. You wouldn’t get very far.”

Desmond licked his lips, making sure you caught sight of it. “You forgot about something.”

You raised a brow, forcing your eyes to meet his and not to enjoy the sight of his lips. Or more especially, the scar that ran down across them. You made sure your tone was serious, “Did I?”

Desmond stepped forward and held up a set of keys, dangling them as you took in their familiar appearance. “You never got them back from me.”

Your gaze jolted from the keys to his eyes, admiring their deep russet hues, the way they stared back just as unfaltered.

His voice dropped down to a teasing whisper, “And you call yourself an Assassin.”

You took down a sharp breath and shook your head. You couldn’t believe how easily distracted Desmond made you. And you especially couldn’t believe how tired you had been earlier to have forgotten to snag your keys back from him. “Alright, give them.”

He gave a snarky tsk before stuffing them into his pocket. “I think I’ll hold onto them a while longer. Might want to take a joy ride.”

Your lips parted to make a retort but…

“Listen.” He pressed his shoulder into your door. “I can’t sleep. There’s no way I can sleep in this place. Not after everything that’s happened. Earlier today was probably… the best sleep I’ve had in a month.” He rolled his attention to the door and tapped his fingertips against. “I was hoping you would be willing to do that again.”

You shoved a hand through your hair, rakeing it back before slowly nodding. “You want to sleep in my room. Is that what you’re saying?”

“I’ll keep my hands to myself.” He tilted his chin down, peering up in sweetest way possible. He knew you were under his spell. And he damn well enjoyed doing it. “You won’t even know I’m there. Promise.”

You should have said no. A flat and plain no. But Desmond hadn’t chosen his fate. He had wanted nothing to do with the Order or the war. He wasn’t a fighter. He wasn’t trained to distance himself or compartmentalise. Not like you were.

“Fine.” You tossed your attention to his door. “Grab your stuff.”

He stepped back, kept his eyes on you a moment longer before disappearing into his room. You sauntered into your own and found your makeshift bed beneath the thin rectangular window. The city lights provided you an ample amount of light, giving you a good view of Des as he crept inside with his bag draped over his arm.

“Reminds me of when I used to go camping.” He closed the door behind him and rolled out his bag a few inches away from your own. “Then again, it’d been nicer out in the woods. Quieter.”

You laid out on the thin bed roll, shifted your spine until you were mildly comfortable. You had a good view of both the window and the door should the worst arise. “South Dakota, was it?”

“Yeah. Near the Black Hills.” Desmond carefully laid down onto his back but grew unsteady, deciding to curl up onto his side, foolishly facing you and putting his back to the door. He went to say something else but he simply groaned. He tried to close his eyes, to sleep but you knew he was stressed.

“You said you couldn’t sleep.” You watched him open his eyes, stare into the floor. “Nightmares?”

He took down a deep breath and rolled out onto his back. “Yeah. Something like that.”

You sat up and drew in your knees, lounging your arms across them. “When I first betrayed the Templars, I used to dream about them finding me. I knew I was trained enough to escape but…” You worried your inner cheek between your teeth. “Abstergo does experiments on people. Warps their minds, controls them in ways I don’t understand. I feared that… what if they had done that to me and I didn’t know. What if they showed up one day and I killed for them again.”

Desmond was staring silently, reading what he could from you and it wasn’t much. You didn’t allow him to see very much of your internal struggle. “Could they really do that? Mind control? Like with the Apple?”

You shook your head in dismay. “Abstergo scientist can do things I wouldn’t dare mutter out loud. Sometimes, I’m not sure if my thoughts are my own. If they might be controlling me.”

“Hey.” Des sat up and without even hesitating placed his hand onto your leg near your knee, gently squeezing at your lower thigh until you looked at him. “We’ll watch each other’s backs. Abstergo won’t stand a chance.” He laughed a bit and playfully pulled your leg. “Especially not if that video you were watching was you.”

You grumbled before using both hands to shove him away. “Shut up and go to sleep, Des. And I told you to keep your hands to yourself.”

He laughed wholeheartedly, his chest shaking from it as he laid back down. He rolled his head to look over at you, his laughs slowly coming to a soft sigh. “I like when you call me Des.”

You rolled your eyes, mostly at yourself for having used ‘Des’ again. You groaned and laid down, putting your back to him. “Sleep. We have a supply run to do in the morning.”

“We?” You could hear the teasing delight in his voice. “As in you and me?”

You couldn’t stay on your side, not with the door at your back. You rolled over, incidentally rolling closer to him, and stared rigidly into the ceiling.

“I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “About touching you earlier. It slipped my mind.”

You closed your eyes, refusing to budge from your spot. “I hurt someone one time, when I first left the Templars. They were just joking around and, I don’t know, instincts kicked in. I nearly broke their neck.” You swallowed as your throat tightened. “It’s better if you… keep your distance.”

Desmond shifted closer, his shoulder pressing against yours. “I’ll take my chances.”

You released a slow breath, hoping it would take the tension away with it. “Sleep.”

“You sure?” He chuckled low in his throat. “That joy ride’s looking pretty good right now.”

Your eyes snapped open, sweeping over to his expression.

He lifted a brow in questioning. “Shall we?”

You went to protest, to find a reason against it but…

“C’mon. I’ve been stuck inside one building to the next.” He pleaded with arched brows and soft eyes. “You can’t tell me you don’t like late night drives.”

You lifted up onto your elbows. “Alright. But I’m driving.”

He smirked and tossed his head away. “You just want your keys back.”

You all too happily held out your hand. “Keys.”

“Fine by me.” He pulled them out of his pocket and dangled them. “Just means I get to hold onto you while you drive.”


	4. Babe

The sky was a dark black veil and the city lights made it appear even darker. But down along the road, among the long stretches of city, the streetlights bloomed in yellows and oranges. They passed by in smeared blurs. The winds roared and bellowed against your helmet, swelling around you as you flew between the slower moving vehicles.

You’ve never known a greater feeling than being on the back of a bike, speeding down a highway without a single obstacle getting in the way of your wild deluge. You weaved around the next car until you reached a strip of empty road, revving the engine and speeding the rest of the way.

Desmond, however, made it difficult to focus. You were driving and it made sense for you to wear the only helmet available. You just hadn’t realized it would give Desmond a perfectly legitimate excuse for burying his face into the warmth of your neck. On the other hand, he had no excuse at all for nipping and suckling longingly against your skin. At least his hands remained steady along your waist. The kneading of his fingers into the soft muscle was altogether a different story.

You didn’t pull over. You focused to the best of your abilities, even using it as a way to test how well you could remain on task. There were moments when your eyes lost focus, your lids falling over your vision from the deep rooted desire that Des was skillfully unburying.

You finally neared the cliffs that overlooked city’s river, steering the bike towards the edge of the sidewalk and kicking out the stand. You turned the key and jerked off the helmet before shooting him a fierce glare over your shoulder.

Des gave a cheeky grin, toothy and wry as he stood up with raised palms. “I didn’t have a helmet and those winds…” He shrugged a nonchalant shoulder as if that excuse somehow explained everything. “I needed to keep the wind out of my eyes.”

“Oh really?” You kept your eyes locked with his while you hooked the helmet to the handlebars and slid off the bike. “What’s your excuse for the hickey?”

He pulled his lips into his mouth, drawing your attention to how red they were as he slowly licked them. “Well, I, uh…” His hands fell down at his side as he playfully smiled. “Would you hate me if I said it was just an added bonus?”

“Hate you?” You raised a challenging brow, corner of your mouth rising as you sashayed forward. “No. No, I’m just going to beat you into the ground during our first training session.”

He gave a crooked grin. “Ouch.” His hands reached out and took yours loosely, giving you the opportunity to pull them away if you wanted to. “Try not to mess up my face if you do. I need this winning smile to get me a new job.”

You turned away from him, pulling your hands away with the action. Strangely, you regretted the loss of his touch. You didn’t let him know it, keeping your tone just as cocky, “New job? And here I thought you’d return to that shotty little bar you worked at.”

“Hey,” he blurted defensively. “That was a nightclub and it wasn’t shotty…” He chuckled softly. “Hold on. How’d you know where I worked? That in my ‘file’ or something?”

You sauntered over to the cliffside and the line of metal railings along its edge. You could have lied, told him you read it somewhere but you didn’t like the idea of lying to him. You rubbed your palms over the cold and smooth metal. “I was tasked to track you down years ago. You really think your father would just let you run off and not have someone track you down?”

His brows pinched, an irritation sparking across his expression and it was the first time you’d ever really seen him angry. “What? My father had you track me? When? Why didn’t…” He shook his head and walked off a few steps before turning back around. “Why wasn’t I dragged back?”

Your attention focused on your hands, a sudden ache that gripped your chest. “You were safe. You weren’t in any danger. You had a job and a place to live.” You swallowed the tightening knot in your throat. “I told your father as much and refused to give him your location. You had a shot at freedom and I wanted you to have it. I thought you could do it… Obviously, not.” Had you handed him over to the Assassins, things might have been different for him. Safer, even.

You didn’t look at him so you couldn’t have known what his expression was. He was stepping forward quickly and it took everything in you not to defend yourself against an impending attack. Desmond wasn’t attacking, you knew as much, and the softness of his hand on your shoulder told you as much. He muttered it softly, “Thank you.”

You straightened your spine and your resolve. “I’m a bounty hunter. I’m an Assassin. I was just doing my job.”

He laughed breathily and dropped his hand away. “No. No, you weren’t. Your job was to hand me over. What you did was…” He gave a few nods with the lack of words.

You climbed over the railing then sat down on it, enjoying the coolness of the night air. It was a delightful change to the stuffy warehouse. The sounds of water lapping against rocks, the hushed whispers of the wind, the darkness around you softened by the city lights… All of it married well into a calm and soothing moment. And these moments were far and few between.

Desmond leaned his arms onto the metal railing. He seemed quiet all of a sudden, a different quiet than usual. As you secretly peered over at him, you caught a glimpse of the worry that he'd been masking with jokes and playfulness. He wasn’t trained for this life. And you couldn’t know for certain how well he was processing it all.

You stared out over the dark river, the stars and moon barely reflected on its surface. “It has purpose.” You lifted your chin, sweeping your attention to him to make sure he heard you. “All of it. Everything. It all has purpose. I didn't always believe that but… I do now. My being here with the Assassins. Your arrival just when we need you most. It all has purpose.”

Desmond climbed up onto the metal fencing with you, sitting down close enough to where his shoulder pressed with yours. “You ever think about running?”

You turned your head to him, surprised by his question. You dipped your head away, squeezed your hands around the sleek rail beneath your palms. “I can’t run. I’m indebted to the Order.”

“Debt?” Desmond snorted a bit. He leaned forward, clasped hands and elbows against his thighs. “I mean, come on, what kind of debt are we talking about here?”

You took down a deep breath of the river far below, an earthy and bitter scent, tainted with rust and pollution. “We should head back. We don’t want them to worry.”

“They’re asleep.” Desmond placed his hand on top of yours, noting the change in your behavior. “Besides, we just got here. You can’t miss the warehouse that badly.”

You turned in your seat, jumping back down to the grass below with Des quickly following suit. “You said joy ride. That’s what we did.” You snagged the helmet from the handlebars but Desmond’s hand pressed onto it before you could even try to put it on.

“Wait.” Desmond gave a low groan. “I’ve taken care of myself since I was sixteen… and I can’t say my childhood was really all that sheltered, either.” He leaned back against the seat of the bike, blocking any chance of you getting on it. “Now you’re asking me to sit in some warehouse while you babysit me.”

You all but growled it, “I’m not babysitting you.” Your arms folded across your chest, trying to contain your annoyance. It wasn’t that you were angry with him but you had a tendency to be colder than intended. “I’m trying to keep you alive. Have you forgotten there is an entire corporation--No, an entire world of people out there looking for you?”

He tilted his head away, bitter about the situation then rolled his eyes up at you. “I’m not asking you to broadcast my location on the news. I just… want a moment longer. I want to know I can still have a little fun and… I don’t know... live.”

You paced away from him, knowing well enough that his argument was valid. He had every right to be sick of being tossed around from one controlling overseer to the next. Although, you liked to think that you were far better than Abstergo. He was still a civilian despite his childhood training. He was still very much naive. He still had a chance at being normal. Far better chance than you ever had.

You eventually gave a nod and muttered, “Alright. Fine. We’ll grab a bite to eat before heading back. How’s that sound?” You stuck the helmet back onto the handlebar, fingertips sliding across the black, sleek plastic.

His childish and playful tone returned, “Sounds good. Then you can talk to me all about that debt of yours.”

You cocked your head before sauntering down the sidewalk. “And you can talk to me about all those years where you took care of yourself.”

Desmond kept pace with you, stepping easily to your side. “Where should I start? Having authoritative parents or that time I lived on the streets scrounging together a meal.”

You tried not to sigh heavily at him. “Let’s just make a deal to never talk about our past.”

He shoved his shoulder playfully into yours. “Or, instead, we can go get a tattoo.”

“What?” You followed his gaze towards the small little shop on the corner. You threw him a fierce glare, trying to decipher whether or not he was being serious. “You’re not joking, are you?”

His grin widened as he crossed the street. He didn’t even bother to see if you were following. He stepped inside of the building like a small child entering into a chocolate shop and you hurried after him to make sure he didn’t do anything completely stupid. Desmond was already shimmying out of his hoodie when you made your way over to him.

“Des.” You leaned towards him while the artist was distracted by another client.

“Look at all these beauties.” He didn’t even give you the slightest glance as he busily flipped through the open booklet on the shop counter.

You tried not to smirk, to refrain from encouraging him. “Right and who is paying for this little beauty?”

“The Order.” He casually lifted a card between his forefingers.

“Let me guess, Rebecca offered it to you out of the kindness of her heart.” You snatched the card from him before he could stash it away. “This is for supplies and resources.”

He shrugged his shoulder before chuckling. “It’s not even their money to begin with. Besides, they won’t even notice. And if they do notice, what are they going to do to me? Kick me out? I’m not exactly in their little club.”

You slapped the card back onto the counter. “No. They’ll just kick me out for allowing my charge to waste funds.”

“No they won’t.” He licked his lips, eyes steady as he finally rested his full attention on you. “You’re probably one of their best. They won’t touch you.”

You lifted your chin, brazenly stepping closer to him. “Fine. Get your silly tattoo. But you owe me. Big time.”

“Deal.” He tapped his fingers onto the various pictures displayed in the binder. “Pick one. You know you want to. I’ve already planned mine.”

You smirked, no longer able to hide it. “Awe. And here I was hoping we’d get a matching set.”

Desmond tilted his head, lips tugging into his typical smile. “I’m up for matching tattoos if you are.”

You shook your head and waltzed away to the rows of chairs against the wall. “If I wanted one then I would have gotten one a long time ago.” That hadn’t been entirely honest. You never actually considered it before because you rarely had time to indulge in personal things. Even your intended vacation ended up turning into another mission.

“Nah.” Des lagged behind, watching as you slouched down in a chair. “You wouldn’t have. You're not the type. You’re too busy making sure everyone else is taken care of.”

The humor in your expression softened, your features smoothing into blankness. You slipped your eyes closed and slouched further. “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when you’re finished getting inked.”

“Oh. No, no, no.” Des snatched up your hand and pulled you up out of the chair. “If you’re not getting one then you’re at least going to watch me get one.” His arm hooked around your waist, corralling you over towards the counter where the artist was finishing up with his other client.

~:~

You stepped into the warehouse, giggling and chuckling uncontrollably as Des gave another hiss. His arm was still incredibly raw from the tattoo and you had, on a few occasions, bumped into it during the ride back. It didn’t help that he had to somehow get his hoodie back on to avoid the intense cold, his sleeve squeezing painfully against it.

You eagerly teased, “Baby.”

Des shoved his elbow into you playfully. “You just wait. I’ll have you talked into one soon enough. We still have to go back and get this beauty finished.”

“That’ll never happen.” You waltzed cockily into the common area, another laugh rolling easily out of your throat. “You’d have to tie me down…” Your eyes landed on Shaun as he lifted the rim of his mug to his mouth.

Des greeted him a little too happily, “Hey, Shaun. We were just, uh...”

There was a smirk on his lips after he savored a sip of his tea. “Did I tell Becca two weeks? Cause I think I might want to change that. Five days, you think?” He tilted his head a little haughtily before walking towards the hallway.

Des looked more than confused, tone flat as he muttered, “What was that about?”

You stared blankly into the wall, internally screaming at Rebecca for having made such a ridiculous wager amongst the group. You gave a weak laugh. “Shaun being his typical odd self.”

“Right.” He seemed a bit hesitant, groaning with uncertainty as he walked ahead. “I’m going to go try and take a shower with this thing…” He gave a proud little smirk as he lifted his arm and eyed the taped down bandage.

You chuckled and ducked your head away. “I’m going to bed.”

He backed away from you while licking his lips. “Try not to miss me too much.”

You rolled your eyes before leaving him to make your way towards the hall. You slipped inside the softening darkness of your room. It would be morning in a few hours and you hadn’t gotten a bit of sleep. And yet, you still felt somewhat energized. Desmond had instilled delight and thrill in you, made your blood rush by getting you out of your comfort zone. He had convinced you to sneak off, to stay out late, and he got himself a tattoo. You could hardly believe you let him to do it.

You pressed your spine into the sleeping bag. You closed your eyes and drifted off into sleep, lips still twitching from a smile. You felt as if you could sleep peacefully for the rest of the year, a sweetness that had settled itself peacefully into your bones.

But your smile faded, thoughts and memories darkening, the room suddenly growing brittle with the cold. Your skin rippled beneath goosebumps. The bright white walls of Abstergo blinded you. His large hand found your throat, squeezed hard enough but trembled from repression. He could kill you, your life in his clutches. He didn’t want you to die, however. He only wanted to frighten you.

Vidic, you hissed his name, your thoughts reverberating with his voice as he spoke, “You are one of us. You’ll always be one of us.”

Your jaws clenched, defiant but naive. “No. I’m not. I’m not like you.”

“But you are.” Vidic’s hot breath seared your eyes and cheeks, made you feel like you could crumble beneath his fury. “You will be. We’ll make you like us. And you’ll do whatever we say. You’ll kill him for us because we say so.”

Your eyes rimmed with tears, batting against the warm water. “No. No I won’t. I won’t kill him.” Your heart leapt, staggered and swooned inside of your chest. You struggled against him. You struggled to breathe air that was tainted by his scent.

“You will kill Desmond Miles.”

You growled. You jolted forward in a rage. You fought against him. Your eyes shot open and Vidic was gone. Arms grappled around you, held you firmly against their chest, rocking you slowly back and forth. You struggled again, a whimper cracking as you shouted, “Let go of me!”

He sucked down a hiss of pain. “Shh. Baby, it’s me. Shh. It’s alright.”

“Desmond.” You breathed heavily, your eyes jaggedly looking down at his arms around you. His tattoo was still lightly bandaged and you had been shoving wildly at it. “Desmond.”

“It’s just a nightmare.” He pressed his lips to the back of your ear, kissing lightly as he muttered softly, “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

Your chest was still heaving and your heart still hammering. It was just a nightmare. It was just your greatest fear plaguing you. You melted against him and tried to let that fear leave you. And when it did, when the adrenaline of survival drained out of your veins, it left you quaking.

Desmond’s legs bent on either side of you, his hold somewhat loosening. “Want to talk about it?”

You were silent for a moment, knowing you didn’t want to talk but also knowing that you couldn’t. It sickened you to think that Vidic might be able to control your mind as well as make you kill Desmond. They had made you kill before. They convinced you to take the lives of others and you did it.

You rolled your eyes shut with slight embarrassment. Desmond had seen a moment of weakness in you. You narrowed your eyes at the remembrance. “Did you call me baby?”

Des huffed then cleared his throat. “No?”

“Yes.” You shoved your elbow back against his ribs, hearing him grunt from the jab. “Don’t you ever call me that again.”

He chuckled lowly, his voice darkening as he spoke against your ear, “What are you going to do to me if I do?”

You twisted around in his hold and shoved him. “Do I need to make that tattoo on your arm hurt even worse?”

“Ouch. So cruel.” Desmond laid down with the largest of grins, his legs shifting on either side you. “Admit it, babe, you liked it.”

You had liked it. And that made it all the worse. You reached a hand back to teasingly hit him but he raised his palms in surrender.

He laughed. “I said ‘babe’ this time. Technically not ‘baby’.”

You pressed your face into your hand, turning your head away to hide your smile.

Desmond’s legs stretched out and his back arched. He gave a low groan after releasing the tension in his muscles. “Still a few hours before we have to get up.”

Your hand fell away, your eyes staring into the wall as the uneasiness knotted inside the bottom of your stomach. “I should go and check up on--”

He laughed, a sweet and lulling sound. “No.” Desmond grabbed your arm, his hold loosening when you glared at him. “You need sleep just like I do. Lay down. I’ll wake you if you have another nightmare.”

You hated that he saw you that way. You hated that your nightmare had been about him. But you also wanted to lie down with him, to forget just for a moment that you were a terrible mess. So when Des nudged his chin towards the spot next to him you obliged. You laid down on your side, your eyes on him as well as the door. Just in case, you reasoned, just in case the Templars broke in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't written much lately. I just haven't been feeling like myself.


	5. Morning Glories

Instincts were strange things. Natural reactions, unprogrammed behaviors that occurred from some deep receptive part of the mind. Your reflexes, however, came from years of training and hunting. They couldn't be forgotten so easily. So when you felt the danger crawl up your spine, the pressure grappling around your body, you didn't question it. You lunged forward, your hand tugging the dagger from its holster and readied for the attack.

You twisted your body out of the tightening hold, straddling your opponent with cruel ferocity. Your breathing quickened as you looked down at Desmond as he slept, his eyes striking wide open at the sudden attack. The strain in your arm and the hold on the weapon flexed when you realized what you’d done. You gritted your teeth, hatred seething past, “Damn it, Desmond!” You shoved away from him and tossed the dagger across the floor. “I told you not to touch me.”

Des heaved down a few ragged breaths, words fumbling out of his mouth as you plodded out of the room and slammed the door closed. Your body trembled from the adrenaline and shock. Even pressing your fingertips against your skull couldn’t stop you from shaking. You marched down the hall and passed the onlooking stare of Lucy, not bothering to explain yourself.

You mindlessly charged your way into the abandoned part of the warehouse, long forgotten machinery and boxes filling up the space along the walls. The center of the room was empty, however, large enough to put in a sparring mat for training. You stalked across the space towards the far wall, using your rage and adrenaline to fuel your climb up towards the upper floors walkway.

By the time you reached the top and leapt over the railing, your nerves weren’t so rattled anymore. You weren't calm, far from it in fact, but you weren’t unstable. You forced yourself to stroll, forced yourself to take in your surroundings rather than let your fear consume you. This was the world, the cold metal of the rails beneath your fingers and the dust that speckled the light as it filtered through the window.

You stood in the sunlight, letting it blanket your skin with heat like a mother soothing her fretful child. You wouldn’t let this happen again. You would not allow Desmond to get close. Whether you liked it or not, you were still a weapon. This time for the Assassins but still a weapon all the same.

You made your way back down and through the halls of the warehouse towards the common room. Lucy was working away at her desk, keeping her eyes on the screen as you passed by. Shaun was just stepping into the area, steaming mug in hand as he worked through his morning routine of turning on his computer and staring into clipped pictures of historical data.

You were just sitting down when Rebecca and Desmond walked into the space, their conversation somewhat lighthearted and jeering. They’d been joking about something but you kept your thoughts focused on the security footage, reviewing every detail that transpired on the streets outside.

Des gave you a quick glance then strolled across the room to your desk. He spoke softly, trying to be discreet but everyone in the room was aware, “Listen, could we talk?”

You kept your eyes on the screen, fingers curled against your mouth. “Don’t you have an animus session to get to?” Your phone rang, saving you from both his hurt expression and his hesitated reply. You snapped up the phone and pressed it to your ear, effortlessly stating, “Hello.”

He spoke quickly, loudly, as if he didn’t have much time to talk, “What’s the story, Morning Glory?” And usually he didn’t whenever he made this sort of calls. Usually, when people called you, it was an emergency. Just like when William called needing the best to watch over his son.

“Morning glory?” Des raised a brow, his expression plainly showing every ounce of confusion after he overheard the man on the other end. And who could blame him. Morning Glory had been a nickname you gained years ago when you did an operation with Wonderland, an older Assassin who did covert missions when the Order deemed them necessary.

You replied with the practiced countersign, “Just traveling through, Wonderland.”

He gave a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone, glad to hear the familiarity of both your voice and the reply. “Thank god it’s you, kid. I heard you were in the area and, damn, could I really use a bit of your… expertise. I know you’ve got another job going from the boss man but… I don’t know who else to turn to.”

You could feel the heat of Des as he leaned closer. “Walk me through the situation.”

“My men and I were to infiltrate one of Abstergo’s science facilities. We got a tip they were putting together some high powered shit in there.” He was smiling, you could hear it in the delight of his tone. “We’re talking high grade explosives here, things people like us could put to some good use.”

“I’m guessing things went south.”

“South and then some. My men are pinned down in an office building south of the facility. They’re in the lower basement level that’s sealed off but… Abstergo is working their way to them, hot and heavy, and my men don’t have the firepower to fend them off for much longer.”

“Send me your location, Wonderland. I’ll get your men out.”

“Copy that.” He hung up and just as soon as he did the coordinates were sent.

You stood up and turned, inches away from Desmond’s raised brows that were slowly arching under concern. You tossed your attention to Lucy, hating the idea of relying on her but having little choice, “Lucy, I need you to keep this place secure.” You really wanted to order her to keep Des safe but… you couldn’t keep letting your feelings dictate your actions.

But no sooner did you say those words did Desmond grab your elbow. “You’re going in there alone?”

You cocked your head at him, reminding him harshly, “That’s my job.”

“At least take me with you. I could--”

“You? You’ve the training of a child. You haven’t fought anyone since… escaping Abstergo. And let's be honest that was a botched job.”

Shaun snorted, “I don’t even think he tried.”

“Screw you, Shaun.” Des stepped closer to you, more desperate than ever. “Fine, take Lucy. She could--”

You jerked your elbow away and marched through the room. “Lucy, while I’m gone, why don’t you fill in our new recruit exactly how this works and who I am.” You snagged your jacket and keys before heading off to the parking space for your bike. But not quick enough to avoid hearing Lucy state firmly, “She’s always worked alone. People like us… just get in her way.”

Des shot back, “Isn’t she part of this team? She could use help--”

“Des,” Becca pleaded, trying to calm him down, the rest of her words muffled by distance.

The moment your hands touched the handlebars the pain that coiled behind your eyes leaked out, warm tears stinging ever so slightly. You hated yourself. Des was only trying to help. He was concerned about you. But you knew that it was too dangerous. You couldn’t get that close. Friends, perhaps, but not closer than that. You shouldn’t have let him slip past your walls and a part of you knew that you had done it on purpose. You had enjoyed the person he was turning you into.

But no. This was for the best. Des didn’t need you messing up his life any worse than it already was. You were a trained killer. You were a weapon sent where it was needed. Even the Assassins treated you like an asset than a person. You weren’t worthy of being cared for, especially not someone as kind as Des.

~:~

You infiltrated the building unseen and used the darkness to hide your attacks. You killed half the men before they even realized an enemy was among them. You slit throats and punctured lungs, hiding the bodies before moving on to the next target. The hallways were narrow which meant the patrols were usually made up of one or two people.

Larger patrols took more effort and the narrow halls meant your typical fighting style was useless. You took just as many hits as them, your defensive tactics leaving you open far too many times. You took a few hits to the face, a knee to the ribs, but they were dead before they could leave you seriously wounded.

You cleared the building and let Eagle Vision do one final sweep to make sure all the immediate targets were dead. There were quite a few of them alive in the upper floors but it’d be hours before they realized what had happened. You called Wonderland, letting him know the way was clear, then hightailed it out of the area.

You didn’t head back to the warehouse, not at first, choosing the city’s lights instead. You weren’t ready to face the team and especially Desmond. If your face looked like how it felt, you knew he’d be especially upset with you. But you couldn’t stay gone forever. Your mission was to keep a close eye on him and everyone around him.

You rolled your busted lip into your mouth and groggily stepped through the common area. It was late so it didn’t surprise you the entire warehouse was dead silent. You weren’t too surprised to find Desmond rushing down the hallway, either. He must have sensed your return with Eagle Vision which meant he had to have been constantly checking for you.

It took everything in you not to deflect Des when his hands reached out and gently took hold of your face. You could have, you should have kept the distance but… deep down you wanted him to take care of you, you wanted his touch. You tried to turn your chin away but he wouldn’t allow it, turning your head under the soft light, palm cupping against your cheek so he could assess the damage.

He muttered under his breath, “God, these look bad.”

“I’m fine.” You reached up and pried his hands away. “All I need is a hot shower.” You shuffled around him, the muscles in your body groaning after the intense beating. You knew there had to be bruises along your whole left side.

He was close at your heels, making it to the bathroom before you and shoving the door open. “Sit down. I’ll get the first aid kit.”

“Des…”

“Stop.” His expression hardened. “Look, I get it. You’re… doing your own thing. But, just…” His palm rubbed across his features, trying to smooth away the stress behind his eyes. “Would you just let me help you?”

You didn’t bother arguing even though you knew you should have. You stepped the rest of the way into the bathroom and sat down, hunched over on the side of the tub. “They’re just scrapes and bruises,” you reasoned, eyeing him as he grabbed the kit from under the sink.

He kneeled down in front of you with the small box of band aids and antibiotic cream in one hand and a damp hand towel in the other. He raised the towel to your lip, dabbing away at the tender spot. “If you’re not careful you’ll end up with a scar like mine.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes at his constant need to make things seem less serious.

“Hell, if I knew you were going to get matching scars I wouldn't have planned our tattoo.”

You couldn’t stop your laugh, lips widening in such a way that it pulled open some of the cuts. Your brows jolted together, fingers rising to press against the searing scrapes. You groaned and ducked your head away, hating how the day started and ended. “I’m a mess.”

He lowered the towel long enough to brush his thumb across your bottom lip.

You turned your head away from him, determined to not let him get so close this time around. “I can clean the rest myself.”

“I know you can…” He wanted to say more, his hesitation told as much. He set down the rag onto the side of the tub, defeatedly getting to his feet. “I’ll be outside… if you need me.”

You watched him turn for the door, more than ready to be rid of your soiled clothes in exchange for a hot shower. Your hands tugged at the hem of your shirt but a sharp pain splintered through the muscles between your ribs, a groan painfully swallowed. You hadn’t broken anything or at least you thought you hadn’t…

Des looked over his shoulder, eying your frozen state.

“I, uh…” You tried to choke back another groan as you stiffly eased your hands away from your shirt. “I might need help after all.”

His brows curved under concern, always caring far too much for his own good. He kneeled down in front of you and carefully began to roll up your shirt. “Damn.” He sucked down a breath of air through his teeth, tugging the shirt the rest of the way over your head and setting it aside.

“Nothing’s broken.” You eyed the large yellowing bruise as he palmed the tender skin.

The corner of his mouth tugged into a grimace, more annoyed by your words than the wound itself. “You should have taken Lucy with you. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“And I don’t need to babysit Lucy while I’m out there on a job.”

If you thought he was angry before his distorted expression told you otherwise. “She could have watched your back. You don’t need to do everything on your own.”

“But I do.” You shoved his hands away. “An op like that needs stealth and precision. Lucy is an unknown factor. She worked undercover in Abstergo for years. I don’t know her. I don’t trust her.”

“And do you trust me?” He raised a brow, almost challenging you to be honest and hurt him. “Would you have left me here if I were trained like you?”

“Yes,” you admitted, “but not because I don’t trust you.”

“Then why?”

“Because it's safer if I work alone.” You leaned your head forward into your palm. “Abstergo has ways of controlling important assets. I can’t be certain when or… if they’ll flip a switch on me.”

“What makes you think they even put a switch in?”

“I can’t be one hundred percent certain that they didn’t.” You painfully rose to your feet, taking your time in hopes it wouldn’t cause more pain. “I need a shower and a long night’s sleep.”

Desmond stood up as well but he wasn’t happy about it. He wasn’t happy about any of the conversation but he didn’t have much choice. He sauntered out of the bathroom and slid the door closed, an unsettling quiet that came with his absence.

It took you twice as long to remove the rest of your clothes, each movement stiff and sore. But the hot shower loosened your muscles so that when you stepped out you felt refreshed and vital. You knew the worst of the pain would come with morning, it always came the next morning.

You wrapped the towel securely around yourself and gathered up your clothes into your arms. You stepped out of the bathroom and padded down the hall towards the washing machine. Des was still sitting in the common room, eyeing you with a raised brow as you passed by.

“I only have one set of clothes,” you stated. You headed further through the building, throwing open the door and tossing your clothes into the machine.

Desmond was leaning against the wall when you turned around. He lifted a bottle of rum in one hand and ice cream in the other. “I found these earlier. Think we can do something them?”

You tried so hard not to smile, to remain serious but you spoke far softer than you planned, “You have an animus session in the morning.”

“Actually,” he smiled toothily, “Rebecca’s giving the day off to… recuperate. Apparently there’s this thing called the ‘bleeding effect’? There’s a chance I might go a little insane--”

“What?” Your brows pinched sharply, fingers curling into a tight fist. “They didn’t warn you? No one told you about that until now?”

He tossed his head and swished the rum around. “Guess not… Wanna mope about it with me?”

You groaned, knowing you shouldn’t but nodding all the same. “Let's see what else we can find. I’m starving.”

Desmond waltzed back towards the kitchen and set everything down. “First…” He began to tug his hoodie up over his head. “Let's get you into something more than just a towel.”

The corner of your mouth tugged high into a smirk. You caught the hoodie when he tossed it over to you. “And it's nice and warm…” You tried to pull it over your head but the muscles along your side protested.

Des must have seen your reaction because he was already standing in front of you, helping get it over your head and your arms into the sleeves. His fingers lingered on the hem of the jacket, hesitating a moment before he turned and searched for something to pour the drinks into.

“I think I saw some root beer in the fridge.” You shuffled over to it and pulled open the door.

“A rum and root beer float…” He tossed a grin over his shoulder, brows wiggling. “Exactly which one of us was the bartender, again?”

“What makes you think I never bartendered before?” You grabbed two cans of the root beer, quickly glancing at Desmond’s curious stare. “I’ve never bartendered, per se, but I have gone undercover a few times.”

Des set the glasses onto the kitchen island then took a seat. “Do you ever take time off of work? Even just a day?”

You snorted and set the cans down, watching as he set to work on making the drinks. “Every time I try someone needs my help.” You sat down on the stool, pulling the hoodie down lower but a good portion of your thighs were still showing.

Something you said made him sigh, his expression shifting into grief again. “You help people. And yet… you still think you’re some weapon waiting for Abstergo’s switch?”

You drew in your bottom lip, resting your head against your propped hand. “You ever hear of a man named Daniel Cross?”

He took a quick look at you before pouring the rum. “Can’t say I have.”

“He was an experiment, subject four, actually. Abstergo did… something to him. Vidic did something to him. It was like he was programmed to join the Assassins and earn their trust…” You tilted your head down, leaning forward with a sudden sickness. “He killed the mentor back in 2000 without really… knowing he was working for the Templars.”

“Where’s he now?”

“He’s a Master Templar.” You finally raised your eyes to him but you couldn’t hold his gaze for long. The prepared drinks were easier to stare at. “He’s the one who ordered your capture.”

His brows jolted but he appeared more annoyed than surprised. “Great. Another thing for us to drink to.” He snapped up his glass and raised. “C’mon. A toast to assholes constantly screwing up our lives.”

You faked a smile, still feeling the lingering effects of talking about Cross. You hadn’t told him everything. You didn’t tell him about having met Cross back in 2000, when you were thirteen years old and already a budding killer.

You grabbed the drink and clinked it against his. “I’d rather toast to something… more lively.” You took a sip of the overly sweet drink, the subtle bite of the rum as it slid across your tongue.

“Alright.” Des held his drink while he considered his words. “A toast to…” He smiled at you, gaze settling on your eyes. “A toast to us then. Just a pair of souls trying to survive someone else’s war.”

You smiled for real this time, wide and cheesy, your eyes rolling. “To our sad and lost souls, then.”

He took a deep swallow, licking the foaming ice cream from his lips. “And good friendship, too. A long-lasting one.”

You gave a nod, taking another sip. “Can’t argue with that.”


	6. The Broken

Your skull hammered, a tightening pressure that swelled between your eyes. The last thing you remembered was Desmond telling some story about a time when him and his friends got drunk and played hide and seek in the park without any clothes on. He didn’t recommend it.

Shaun snarled. His eyes were narrow and sleepy as he took in the state of the kitchen. “What the devil...”

Rebecca gave a shocked gasp. “You guys threw a party and didn’t invite me?”

You glanced around, eyeing the empty rum bottle and the crushed cans of root beer. The ice cream carton, surprisingly, had a bit left at the bottom. Albeit, melted. And you and Desmond were sitting on the floor with your backs against the cabinets. You think you might have been sleeping on his shoulder, your cheek still warm.

“Party?” Des raised his head, a sloppy smile on his lips. “It was more like… a relaxing drink before bedtime.”

“Relaxing drink,” scoffed Shaun. “Twenty relaxing drinks, more the like.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose before shoving your palm up across your face.

“Is that…” She grinned, a giggle making it nearly impossible to understand her, “Is that Des’s hoodie? And a towel on the floor?”

You swept your eyes over at the crumpled towel before resting on the hoodie. Your legs were pretty exposed but thankfully the jacket managed to cover up most of your hips and thighs. “My clothes were dirty.”

She snorted before waltzing off towards the coffee machine. “We’re going out drinking tonight. There’s no way you guys get to have fun without me again.”

“I think I’ve had my fill,” you groaned, wishing you hadn’t drunk as much as you did.

“Screw that!” Rebecca was pressing the machine on before spinning around. “We’re gonna make it a night we won’t remember.”

Shaun hissed as he began to fill the kettle,“Or ever be able to talk about again.”

She tossed him a heated glare but returned her winning smile back to you like flipping a switch. “We’ve got a whole day off. I’m thinking we spend it all day out on the town.”

“Are you daft?” Shaun spoke up before you even had time to process your reaction. “Des is a wanted man and not the good kind of wanted. We…” He swept an accusatory finger around the room. “We are all in danger of being killed by Abstergo. So… Rain check on that, yeah?”

Rebecca snorted but the look in her eye told all of you that she wasn't going to be able to argue with that.

Desmond slowly got to his feet, groaning with clenched eyes. “No but a little trip to some bar shouldn't be a problem. I mean, hell, some rundown bar in an alleyway… Doubt Abstergo cares to check there.”

Shaun huffed excessively, a dramatic sound because he was realizing that no one was going to listen to him. At least not today.

You slowly got up off of the ground, staggering to stand on your feet. You tugged at tje hem Desmond’s hoodie just to make your at least half of your thighs were covered. “One trip late tonight shouldn’t hurt…”

“You as well?” Shaun griped. “Here I thought our illustrious bodyguard would have more spine.”

You rolled your eyes up at him then stalked off towards the washer and dryer. Normally you would have been on Shaun’s side in the matter. A trip, even a small one, was risky. But Desmond needed a day off. He needed to get away from the Animus and do something normal.

You gathered your clothes, still slightly damp after having sat in the washing machine all night. You held them weakly under your arm, each step roiling painfully across the muscles in your back and sides. You didn’t realize how much pain you were still in until you were standing in the bathroom, trying to tug Desmond’s hoodie up.

The door creaked open. Des poked his head inside, whispering, “I figured… you’d need help and wouldn’t want anyone to know…” He glanced down the hallway just to make sure no one had caught sight of him.

Your lips parted, your hand dropping to the hem of the jacket, and nodded when you knew he was looking again. He slipped into the small bathroom and closed the door shut behind him. He held in view a small box of medicated heat wraps, somewhat grinning about it as he shook the box.

You leaned against the sink. “And where’d you snag those?”

“Becca.” He set the box down then began working on the hoodie. “Apparently she uses them for her shoulders. They hurt after she sits at her desk for long hours.”

You let Des carefully roll the jacket up over your ribs, pull your arms through the long sleeves, then tugged it up over your head. Just those little actions alone caused you to hold your breath. You managed to hide your pain pretty well until Des grabbed one of the heat wraps and pressed it out over your bruised ribcage.

Your head fell forward with clenched eyes because you knew that the morning would hurt ten times more. His fingertips brushed across the edges of the patch, trying to ensure it would stay put. You sucked down a hissed breath, palms flat on the sink and shoulders tensing. Des grabbed your hand, drawing your attention towards his efforts to put your shirt back on.

You muttered it weakly, slipping your arm through the short sleeve, “Thank you.”

Desmond chuckled as he got the rest of your shirt on. “You realize my being in here… I’m seeing you naked, right?” He grinned a bit too smugly, all ready to tease you. But then the grin faded. “None of this bothers you?”

You worked with him getting the rest of your clothes on. You barely managed to bend over when you needed to get your foot through your pants. Finally, when he was buttoning your jeans into place you replied, “I guess I never really saw myself as anything… like that.”

Desmond straightened his spine, inches away from you, his palms wrapped over the bones of your hip. “Saw yourself as what?”

You averted your gaze to his hands, to the muscles along his forearms, as you tried to process your words. How could you possibly explain to him? You were always a weapon first, never a woman to be desired. But Desmond either knew or began to understand because his hands captured your jaw. He tilted your head upwards until his lips pressed into your own.

You were nervous and unpracticed, the sweep of his tongue causing you to jolt. But you let your mouth melt against his, allowing your lips to part and his tongue to delve across your own. Desmond leaned forward into you, needing to press himself closer, to grind his hips into yours. A small moan rose in the back of his throat.

You turned your head, pulling your lips from his and gasping for air. “Des…”

“I know,” he breathed hotly onto your ear before taking a respectful step back. “I’m sorry.” He slipped out of the bathroom, the door hushing closed behind him.

Your chest heaved down a few more breaths. You hoped your heart would settle down but… Desmond left you rattled. You wanted more of him, needed more of him. That small moment, a simple kiss, sparked something you hadn't felt before.

You rushed through your morning routine, quickly brushing your teeth and hair, then gathered his hoodie into your arms. You stepped out of the bathroom and pressed your back into the door.

Down the hall in the common area, Desmond was sitting on the edge of the Animus, leaning forward with hands clasped together. The grin you were growing to love adorned his lips, a half heard conversation as he spoke to someone else in the room. But then his eyes swept to yours, remaining there when you stared back.

This time he was smiling at you, eyes softening at the sight of you. He tried to keep up with the conversation but his glances always swept back to you.

And then you nudged your head towards your bedroom. You weren’t even certain if you did it or not until his grin slowly faded. He was processing the action just as much as you were. Had you really suggested something? Were you going to follow through with this?

You sauntered off towards the bedroom, clutching his jacket tighter. You’d been wearing it for most of the night so his scent had somewhat faded but… You could still breathe the few lingering traces of him.

Inside the bedroom you paced, forcing your muscles to adjust to the pain of bruises. The more you worked them the less stiff and pronounce they felt. But then the longer you paced, the faster your heart pounded. Why hadn’t he shown up yet? Was he trying to be discreet? Did he change his mind altogether? Had your kiss been terrible?

Knuckles clattered on the door. “Babe, I’m…” His words softened. “I’m not coming in.” You heard him lean into the door, shirt shuffling against wood. “I want to but… You’re not ready. I know you’re not ready for that and I’m okay with waiting.”

You stood in the center of the room, fingers wrapping around the cloth, feeling the grains of fabric. Des was right. You weren’t ready. A part of you wanted to be. You would have given anything to take that step but you also knew… you couldn’t.

“Babe,” he muttered, worried as he moved against the door. “Please, talk to me.”

You crossed the room and twisted the handle, slowly prying the door open. “If I didn’t want this I wouldn’t have asked you to come back here.”

Des pressed his shoulder into the doorframe, fingers reaching out to caress along your arm. “I wanna wait…” He gave a breathy laugh. “We just had our first kiss… I think we can wait a little more before we do anything else.”

You pressed your spine into the doorframe. Admittedly, you wanted to sneak closer to him, to let your shoulder subtly brush across his. “I just…”

“I know.” Des leaned closer, towering over you as his hand curled gently around the column of your neck. “Tonight… If you still want this we can try. But we don't have to rush. I'm not going anywhere.”

You released a slow breath. It felt good to have him around you, to feel the gentleness in his touch. Your whole life you had never felt someone so tender. “We should join the others…”

Des chuckled. “Or else they might think we actually went through with this and start counting their bet money.”

You groaned, wishing the wall would swallow you whole. “You knew about the bet?”

He tossed a shoulder. “I figured it out.”

“They were a bit obvious about you…” You walked with Desmond back to the common room. Lucy was already at her desk. Becca and Shaun were standing off to the side talking to someone near the kitchen.

His somewhat short hair and maintained beard, the loud brashness of his voice, told you exactly who it was. “Morning Glory,” he greeted, too cheerful especially for how early it was. He pushed past Becca and Shaun, to get to you. He snatched up your hand into a fierce shake before patting his other hand into your back. He knew you'd never let anyone get too close. He always respected your boundaries.

You greeted happily but not quite as boisterous as him, “Wonderland.”

He stepped back, arms folding across his chest. “Hell of a job you did last night. Got all my men home safe.”

“You’re the one who sent her in there?” Des didn’t sound all that angry which made the full force of his punch to Wonderland’s jaw all the more shocking. He was tense, almost as if he'd throw another punch. “Have you seen what they did to her? Do you see her face?”

“Desmond,” you rushed forward, pulling his rage away from the other man. You posted yourself between the two of them.

“She could have died. And you’re here laughing it off like some joke...”

“She's too good of an agent to die.” Wonderland chuckled, dabbing his fingertips on the split in his lip. “Damn fine hook you’ve got, kid. Haven’t tasted my own blood in a long while. Whoever the hell’s been training you should be proud.”

“Fottiti,” Des spat. He groaned suddenly, fingers rushing to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Your breath stilled. You swore he muttered something in Italian but you couldn’t be certain. You whispered it, afraid of how he’d respond, “Des?” Your arms slid around him, steadying his weight as he swayed.

“Sorry, I just… don’t feel well.” He dropped his hand away, glaring daggers at the Assassin across from him.

You hold on him softened, thumb slyly caressing along his arm. “You should go lay down. I’ll check up on you in a bit.”

Desmond’s jaw flexed. He didn’t argue though. “It’s probably just the hangover.”

Bleeding effect, you wanted to correct him but shuddered a breath instead.

He left the room with everyone’s eyes on him. When you were certain he was out of earshot you turned your fury to your team. Rebecca was already throwing her palms up, dropping down in her chair with defeat.

“No more Animus sessions.” You made sure it sounded like an order. “Not until we can be certain this thing isn’t going to get him killed.”

“We don’t have a choice.” Lucy rounded her desk, arms folding neatly across her chest as if this were somehow debatable. “Abstergo is looking for the Apple. If they find it before we do--”

You threw a hand down the hallway, pressed all of your anger behind the action. “So you’re willing to let one of your own die?”

“Desmond hasn't shown any of the signs--”

Shaun softly added, “Until now.”

Lucy groaned. “The Apple is more important. If Abstergo gets their hands on it, they could end everything.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes to you, silent plea that you wouldn't put someone's life on the line.

“We lost Clay. I won’t let us lose another.” You spun away from them, snatching your phone and called the one person who would listen to reason.

You marched towards the empty warehouse, phone pressed to your ear, hanging on to every ring. Finally the phone clicked and before William got out a hello you blurted, “Desmond is beginning to feel the bleeding effect. We can not keep sending him into sessions if we want to keep him alive.”

William groaned, obviously not prepared for the sudden assault. “I need more of an update than that. When did his symptoms arise?”

“It doesn't matter. It shouldn't have arisen at all.”

His voice was growing tense, a man torn between being an Assassin and a father, “That is the risk we must all take.”

“Reduce his sessions. You put me in charge of his safety because you knew I would do my job. Trust me to do my job.”

“I want him safe… I care about my son… But if Abstergo reaches the Apple before us…”

“I'll personally go and get it from them.”

He was silent for a moment, deliberating his options.

“Have I ever failed you?”

“I'll refer to your judgement. And agent…” He hesitated, you could almost hear the beginning of your name but he stopped himself short. “Don't let Desmond know about this phone call. If he knew of my involvement…”

“I understand.”

William hung up the phone without further commentary. You lowered the device from your ear just as Wonderland gave a gravelly sigh of frustration and disappointment.

“Glory, what the hell are you doing?”

You tightened your grip around the phone. “My job.”

He swaggered further into the room, his stony gaze burrowing into you. “You’re letting your emotions compromise your mission.”

You flicked a flower at him. “What the hell would you know about my mission?”

“It’s your job as an Assassin to make sure Abstergo never gets the drop on us.”

“No my job,” you stated, daggering the words from your tongue, “is keeping Desmond alive.”

“Don't fucking kid me. I saw what happened out there.” He closed what little space there was but he always kept some form of distance. “You held him.”

“He wasn't well…” Your lie fell short. You both knew what happened.

“Hell, we've known each other for years. How many missions have we done together? How many times have I saved your life? And you can barely let me pat you on the back.”

You hardened your expression as best you could, years of training having prepared you.

“You know the dangers. Do you really want a repeat of last time?”

You shuffled away from, trying to swallow the emotions that clenched the back of your throat. You had hurt people on accident before. The night you woke up and nearly plunged a dagger in Desmond was proof enough.

He leaned his shoulder into the warehouse’s stacked boxes. “People like us… We don’t get happy endings. You just cleared out a building full of Abstergo operatives like it was nothing. Walked out of there with a few scrapes and bruises…”

Monster, you could almost hear the word. A weapon.

“C’mon, Glory, you know we don’t get to have that kind of life.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a half-crumpled cigarette box. “You plan on settling down in some coastal villa, making homemade meals and bag lunches for your kids before you send them off to school?”

It was all coming too quickly: the realization of how deeply you cared for Desmond, the possibility that you might lose him to the Animus, the overwhelming truth that you were a liability he couldn't afford… Hearing a fellow Assassin, someone you'd worked countless jobs with and might even consider a friend, tell you that you were dangerous…

Your eyes began to burn but you refused to look at him. “I can't just leave.”

“If you care about him as much as you think you do…” Wonderland placed the cigarette between his lips, mumbling, “You would save yourself and him the pain.”

“My mission,” you added, feeling your resolve falter. You knew he was right, you knew all along that you were a hazard to Des and that eventually things wouldn’t work out.

“I'll stick around until a replacement shows.” He pulled the cig from his mouth, puffing smoke while trying to light the end of it. “You should get out of here. Take your bike and go.”

You turned towards the door. “I have to at least say goodbye.”

“You really think you can do that? Say goodbye and just leave?” He pushed himself off the crate and flicked his ashes onto the concrete. “You know you'll end up staying. Do the right thing… walk away from this.”

You stalked forward, working your way through the building towards the common area. “I'm leaving.” You snagged your leather jacket and keys, sweeping your attention up to Becca and Shaun who were both slack jawed. “Miles ordered reduced sessions on Desmond until he can be better assessed.”

Becca sounded a little hurt, “Leaving?”

“On another mission?” Shaun stood up, trying to occupy himself with the paper in his hand but it was obvious he was concerned. “You only just returned.”

“Lucy and Wonderland will take over security matters from here…” You couldn't say it. You couldn't get the words “good bye” off your tongue. “I'm no longer part of this… mission.” Before Becca could grab you, because you saw her flinch, you marched out of the room and past Wonderland.

Becca blurted the words, “Shaun, go get Des!”

You hurried through the building, shaky fingers fumbling to get your keys sorted. This was the right thing, you convinced yourself, straddling the bike and shoving the helmet over your head. You were an agent, an operative, a weapon that even William Miles utilized with desperation. There was no normal life for murderers.

So why did it hurt so much to speed your bike out of the warehouse and through the Italian cityscape? Why did your phone’s ringing cause heated tears to sting your eyes? You tried to ignore it, to turn off the Bluetooth in your helmet, at least until you were out of the country and halfway to some cheap rundown hotel.

But you had to pull over. You shoved the helmet off, a rage swelling up around your grief. You threw the sleek plastic into the concrete, fingers rushing up to tug at your hair. There were so many emotions assaulting you, things you had never felt before… How did normal people deal with them? How did they handle such strangling depression?

You sunk to your knees, the heel of your palms shoved into your feverish eyes. This was the safest and most practical option. All of your years of training and experience told you to keep going.


End file.
